


Crossing The Bridge

by Anonymous



Series: 30 Days of Writing [17]
Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Canon Era, Confessions, Confrontations, Denial of Feelings, Emotions, First Kiss, Friendship, M/M, Minor Kid Blink/Mush Meyers, Pining, Present Tense, Relationship Advice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-19
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-06 15:56:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13414638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Who knew that all Race needed was a little encouragement from his friends?





	Crossing The Bridge

**Author's Note:**

> Day #17: Avoid

It’s been days since Race has gone to Brooklyn and everyone in the lodging house has noticed. 

In hushed whispers, sneaking into unoccupied rooms, the boys speculate why Race has been hanging around Manhattan more than usual. Some, like Mush, even found the courage to ask, only to get a vague response in return. If they got a response at all. 

When the seventh day comes, so does a small child, out of breath and asking for Racetrack Higgins. 

Race tries to ignore the calls, but he cares for her dearly and can’t stand the broken sound of her voice.

“What’s going on, Laces?” he asks from his hiding spot, poking out just enough so she sees him. 

With a bright grin Race will never tire of seeing, Laces motions for Race to lean down and whispers into his ear a message. Shaking his head, Race gives her his best apologetic look and states, “I can’t.”

Laces frowns, looking at the other nearby boys for help, but they merely shrug. Race hopes saying, “I’ll explain later,” will be enough and sends Laces on her way with a nickel in hand. 

“So?” Blink asks from his seated position on a crate. He leans back against the wall, his eye a pointed stare and Race shifts.

“None of your goddamn business,” Race mutters as he lights up a cigar. 

Blink scoffs. “Oh, a Brooklyn kid in Manhattan is none of our business. I see how it is.”

Race glares at Blink and the two stare each other down as the tension in the area makes everyone uncomfortable. Race breaks first, moving his gaze to the ground, but keeping his mouth clamped tight around the cigar. He doesn’t see Blink motion to the others and hardly notices the newsies leaving until it’s just Blink and Mush left behind. 

“Area’s clear.”

“I ain’t talking,” Race scowls, flicking off the ash from his cigar. 

For as long as he’s known Blink and Mush, this is one secret he can’t share with another living, breathing soul. There’s too much risk, a weight that will crush him either way. In Race’s mind, there is no good outcome, but he’d rather suffer alone in his mind if he must.

Mush approaches first, still far enough to give Race his space as he stands within Race’s peripheral. 

“Me and Blink plan to get a place together once we’re too old to be selling papes,” Mush begins, his hands in his pockets. “We...we want to be together always, whatever it takes.”

Mush’s words terrify and enrapture Race all at once. He had his suspicions, but never prodded, figuring Blink’s and Mush’s business was their own. Now, to be the first to know the truth, his breath catches in his throat as he works through his fractured thoughts.

“How did you know?” Race asks just above a whisper, unable to look at his friends when Blink joins Mush’s side. 

“Know we loved each other or that you’re in love?” Blink responds in a low murmur. 

Race laughs a little at this, pulling off his cap and running a hand through his hair. “Whichever.”

“Just sort of fell into it,” Mush picks up. “Everything slid into place after that.”

Nodding, Race wishes his scenario was as simple, his dying hopes kept as burning coals in his chest.

“Talk to him,” Blink nudges Race. “If he cares about you, he’ll treat you with respect either way.”

Race can’t help the scoff that leaves him, his fears consuming every part of his mind. He’s seen the worst and he doesn’t need that thrown in his direction. Mush’s hand lands on his arm, not quite pushing, but not still either as Race finally looks at his friends’ faces.

Empathetic and concerned, Race almost wishes he hadn’t kept this to himself. Months of turmoil might’ve been eased, his doubts scattered instead of the feeling of his heart about to burst in his chest.

“If you leave now, you’ll make their lodging house by sunset,” Blink casually looks up at the sky, feigning disinterest.

With another small laugh, Race claps his friends on their arms before taking their advice. His worries linger in his mind, but Race figures if his friends were able to share their secret, he can do this one thing for them. 

Race knows his heart will be horribly broken, but then at least there might be some relief. Some confirmation of what he’ll need to do with his emotions. 

The entire length of the bridge, Race’s heart is pounding in his chest. He stops a few moments, his stomach betraying him, but he keeps his composure all the way to the Brooklyn lodging house. 

Upon his arrival, he stands tall amongst the stares, asking for Spot’s whereabouts. It’s not until Laces pushes through the taller boys that Race cracks his first smile in Brooklyn and she tugs him up the stairs, through a few different hallways. 

She points to a door at the end, giving Race’s hand a reassuring squeeze before she runs back the way they came. Race hopes he’ll know the way back or that he will be allowed to stay so he doesn’t have to remember.

Breathing in, Race approaches the door, giving it two solid knocks as his nerves cause his hands to shake. It’s not until he hears the muffled voice that Race enters the room, facing the door as he shuts it. He can’t bring himself to turn around just yet and he can already feel the icy stare on his back. 

“Not like you to be gone a week, Higgins.”

The use of his last name tells Race exactly how Spot is feeling and he is slow to turn from the door. 

“I know,” he responds, his hand still gripping tight onto the knob. “I just had to figure a few things out.”

“What? Something’s going on in Manhattan?”

Race sees Spot cross his arms out of the corner of his eye and it’s all too familiar to what happened earlier in the day. Releasing his grip from the doorknob, Race faces Spot, propping himself against the door to stop his shaking limbs. 

Despite the angered look on Spot’s face, he’s painted in the sun’s setting rays, every feature highlighted as he glares Race down. Race’s stomach twists as he shakes his head to Spot’s question. 

Spot narrows his eyes, stepping closer to Race despite how much Race’s mind screams at him not to. The line Race toes is shrinking by the minute as Spot stops right in front of him.

“I even sent Laces over. Why didn’t you come back with her?”

“What’s with all the questions?” Race shrugs. “It’s not like I’m one of your boys or nothing.”

Race can see Spot’s face redden, a flash of annoyance crossing it before he relaxes into something Race can't decipher.

“No. You’re not,” Spot enunciates his words and Race hates how his heart drops. “You might not be Brooklyn, but you are one of my own.”

With his heart beating in his ears, Race stares into Spot’s eyes, searching for any signs of teasing. Instead, there’s a gaze Race is unfamiliar with, yet he knows it all the same. With his hands trembling, he reaches out for Spot until he grabs onto his waist. Both look down at Race’s hold and it’s then Race’s impulse takes over. 

Spot’s lips are rough like his own, chapped, but there is a tenderness as their mouths move together. Spot wraps his arms around Race’s neck, pulling their embrace even closer as they figure out the best way to move with the other. 

Race isn’t sure who breaks away first, but all he can do is hold tight to Spot with the intention of never letting go. 

“This what you had to think about?” Spot whispers against Race’s lips and Race helplessly nods. 

He can feel the grin on Spot’s lips, the hand tugging at the hair on the back of his head. Race lets out a contented sigh, an apology sitting in his mouth. 

“I was scared too,” Spot admits, holding himself back a little so the two can properly look at each other. “When you didn’t show up, I thought you wanted nothing to do with me.”

Race moves a hand from Spot’s waist to his cheek, caressing it with his thumb. He revels in how Spot leans into the touch and Race breathes in. 

“I want everything to do with you. That’s why I ran,” Race explains, closing his eyes a little when Spot rests their foreheads together for a moment. 

Spot nods, placing a kiss on Race’s temple before his mouth trails down, back to capture Race’s mouth. Race melts into Spot’s gentle touches, now both hands holding onto Spot’s face as if his life depends on it. Spot has him pulled close by his waistcoat and the two savor their embrace for as long as they can. 

By the time they move away from the door, Spot tugging Race over to the bed so they can sit, the sky is a deep indigo. Race asks with a gaze and Spot, already knowing, gives a singular nod. 

As the two settle in for the night, Race wonders how he ever managed to stay away from Brooklyn for so long and curls into Spot as the faded lights of the harbor guard their secret, finishing with a kiss to seal their confessions.

**Author's Note:**

> i got super emotional near the end while writing this if you can't tell
> 
> [Tingle](http://safarikalamari.tumblr.com)


End file.
